Operation: Lois Lane
by Phosphorescent
Summary: Tag to "Secrets." It all starts with a text…
1. A Surprise Visitor

Disclaimer: Maybe I own NCIS in an alternate world, but I rather doubt it. I certainly don't own it here!

Alternate Summary: Curious about Wendy and worried about Tony, Ziva does what she does best. No, not kill someone! She snoops… sorry, _investigates_.

A/N: This fic will cover multiple scenes that we did and didn't see throughout 9x15: "Secrets," with a focus on the Ziva/McGee friendship and the Ziva/Tony friendship. As with most of my NCIS fics, there will be hints of T/Z UST.

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><p><strong>Chapter One: A Surprise Visitor<strong>

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><p><em>Ding-a-ling-ling.<em>

Ziva's keen ears catch the sound of a text message from McGee's vicinity.

Upon opening his phone, the agent's eyes widen and his mouth drops open a little.

He looks, Ziva thinks, rather like a stunned puffer fish with his bulging eyes.

"Ziva!" he hisses.

"Yes, McGee?"

"You have to see this."

Curious as to what has so excited her normally calm co-worker, Ziva strolls over to his desk and glances at the message that he is emphatically waving in her face.

_OMG, Tony's ex-fiancée Wendy is here!_ it says. Unsurprisingly, the sender's number is Abby's. _Look._

Ziva's eyes widen as well.

McGee clicks on the attachment, which is revealed to be a hastily taken picture of Wendy-the-ex-fiancée.

She is pretty. Dark haired, dark eyed, nice cheekbones. Conventionally attractive, but there is a certain firmness to her lips that suggests strong-mindedness. Of course, Ziva would expect no less from a woman that Tony was going to marry.

(Tony. Tony was going to marry this stranger. It still buggles the mind a bit.)

"Wow," McGee says and Ziva can't help but agree.

_Ding-a-ling-ling._

McGee hurriedly opens the latest text and Ziva leans in over his shoulder.

_They're coming your way. Meow._

She and McGee exchange a bewildered glance – _meow?_ – then scramble to the center of the room. If Abby is right and Tony and Wendy-the-ex-fiancée are coming their way, they'll be able to see them before they arrive.

Out of instinct, Ziva surveys the entrances on one half of the room while McGee surveys the other half. Seconds later, she hears Tony's distinctive voice.

"McGee, here they come. Here they come!" she hisses.

They quickly arrange themselves oh-so-innocently in front of the projector and prepare to watch.

Tony and a slender, dark-haired woman – Wendy – appear through the hallway down by interrogation. They stride up the stairs and Tony immediately corners Gibbs, voice frantic and grip like iron.

It's rare for Tony to confront Gibbs, let alone in public, so the fact that Tony is worked-up enough to do so is significant. And his comments are… intriguing, to say the least.

But Gibbs, like G-d, is merciful only when it suits him, and insists that Tony act as Wendy's liaison.

She and McGee exchange a significant glance and she tilts her head slightly to the side in the direction that Tony just went. Oh yes, they have work to do.

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

"Tony did direct her to this room, yes?" Ziva asks in an undertone, ear pressed to the conference room door.

"Maybe they moved? I don't know," McGee whispers, "Can you hear anything?"

"No!" Ziva hisses. "Stop talking, and maybe I will be able to."

Of course, then Tony catches them.

Everything is going according to plan, even if McGee doesn't know it yet. (Oh please. She's a Mossad agent, she knows better than to jostle against a door or to whisper that loudly. And her flustered reaction? Purposeful.)

No, this is all part of her plan. (Although it would have been nice if she could have caught a little bit of Tony's conversation with Wendy. Irritating soundproof doors.)

Nonetheless, what she was really after was Tony's reaction to their presence; and, as she had thought, it speaks volumes. This thing between him and Wendy, it still has… juice.

"She is _cute_," McGee comments offhandedly to Tony.

"Stop it," Tony grumbles, hurrying after Wendy.

Ziva shoots McGee a brief glare – he's supposed to be on _her_ side, after all – before reluctantly conceding that he has a point. Wendy _is_ cute. And smart. And put-together. And clearly knows her own mind. She even seems nice.

But none of that means anything. What do they know about Wendy, anyway? Yes, Tony was engaged to her, but that was nearly a decade ago. People change.

(Ziva certainly is not who _she_ was nine years ago.)

No, Ziva does not trust Wendy at all.

The woman bears further investigation.


	2. An Explosive Introduction

_Disclaimer: What do you know? I still don't own NCIS._

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><p><strong>Chapter Two: An Explosive Introduction<strong>

Ziva knows that Tony is genuinely, _seriously_ affected by Wendy's appearance when he refuses to discuss it. On smaller matters, you can't get the man to shut up, but when it comes to the important things, he is surprisingly private.

(If Ziva is perfectly honest, it irks her that Wendy is important enough to justify one of Tony's rare silences.)

So when they catch Wendy trailing them, Ziva uses it as an opportunity to get more information. Fortunately for her, Wendy seems more than willing to talk. Most of what Wendy says is case-related, but she does make a little dig about Tony not having 'the best track record' at keeping his promises.

This statement both piques her curiosity and makes her a little angry. Because Tony may be many things, but he is one of the most trustworthy people she knows; she finds it hard to believe that he was so very different in that respect nine years ago. (Then again, nine years _is_ a long time. People change.)

Meanwhile, Tony's slightly-bitter response of "_Me_? Are you _kidding_?" suggests that perhaps it was _Wendy_ who didn't honor an important promise.

(Which could explain so, _so_ many things.)

After Wendy's car half-explodes, Ziva calls the fire department, Gibbs, and a tow truck. In that order. Then they head back to NCIS headquarters. The ride is awkward, but Ziva finds herself enjoying it if only because watching Tony squirm rarely fails to amuse her.

"I don't believe that we've been properly introduced," Wendy says, smiling pleasantly and proffering her hand. "Wendy Miller. _Globe _reporter, NCIS informant, and Tony's ex."

"Ziva David," Ziva says, reaching forward and firmly shaking the woman's hand.

Wendy has a good handshake, but she expected that from a reporter.

"Great, now you two know each other," Tony says rapidly. "So, how about this weather we've been having, huh? I blame it on global warming, personally."

Ziva exchanges an amused glance with Wendy.

Tony can be very predictable sometimes.

"So how do you know Tony?" Wendy asks, ignoring the man in the driver's seat.

"We are partners," Ziva says. Glancing briefly at Tony, she notices that the man's knuckles have whitened slightly on the wheel. "I can drive if you prefer, Tony."

"Uh, let me think about that…" Tony chuckles in a strained voice. "_No_. I'd prefer to get back to HQ alive, thanks."

"Tony is under the impression that I am a poor driver," Ziva tells Wendy conspiratorially.

(Establish a bond with the suspect and he or she is more likely to open up and trust you. And if someone trusts you, they are more likely to give things away.

Establishing a bond with Wendy is made easier by the fact that, despite herself, Ziva reluctantly likes Wendy. She has… _spunk_, yes? There are some traits in her that Ziva recognizes in herself, among which is an unwillingness to be cowed or deterred. That doesn't mean that she trusts Wendy, however.)

Wendy laughs. "Yes, that sounds like Tony."

Tony scowls. "You haven't been in a car with Agent David behind the wheel before. It's a… religious experience. Your life flashes before your eyes."

"_Please_," Ziva scoffs, but is secretly a bit pleased at his comment, even as she is irritated.

"So where are you from?" Wendy asks. "Israel, I presume?"

"You would presume correctly, Lois Lane," Tony interjects.

"Let Agent David speak for herself," Wendy chides.

Ziva shakes her head slightly and says, "Yes, I am from Israel."

"A beautiful country," Wendy says. "I did a bit of reporting in Tel Aviv once."

"Mmmm," Ziva murmurs noncommittally.

Her memories of Israel are… mixed these days, to say the least.

"So tell me, how did you and Tony first meet?" Ziva asks.

She already knows the answer. Wendy's response will give her a baseline to test future answers against.

"Oh, look, we're at the Navy Yard," Tony says in false disappointment. "As much as I hate to cut this conversation short, ladies, we have an appointment with Gibbs."

"Later?" Ziva asks Wendy casually.

"Later," Wendy agrees.


	3. A Continued Conversation

_Disclaimer: When I woke up this morning, I thought I owned NCIS. Then my brain kicked in._

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><p><strong>Chapter Three: A Continued Conversation<strong>

It is later.

On Gibbs' orders, Ziva picks Wendy up at her grandmother's.

The house is a sprawling one-story affair with navy shutters and a white picket fence out front. The lawn is well-watered and neatly-trimmed, and all of the windows are adorned with brightly-colored flowers in window boxes. It is wholesome, all-American, and utterly without character; Ziva irrationally hates it.

Stepping up to the stoop, she rings the doorbell.

_Ding dong._

There is no response.

She presses the button again: _Ding dong._

The door opens slowly, and an elderly woman peeks out.

"Hello?" she says.

"Agent Ziva David, NCIS," Ziva says, showing the woman her badge. "I'm here to talk to Wendy."

"Wendy!" the woman calls. "There's an agent from NCIS here for you." Turning to Ziva, she adds, "Where are my manners? Please, come inside."

"Thank you," Ziva says, stepping through the door and into a well-lit entry hall.

"Back already?" Wendy calls teasingly, coming into view. "Oh. Agent David. Hi. How can I help you?"

"We have a man whom we believe to be Felix Quintero in custody, and could use your assistance in verifying his identity," Ziva informs her.

"Of course," Wendy says agreeably. "Just let me grab my coat and tell my son that I'm heading out again."

"Of course," Ziva echoes.

"Fred, sweetheart!" Wendy calls. "Can you come here for a minute?"

There's no response.

"He's probably caught up in one of his video games again," Wendy says with a sigh, turning around and walking out of the room.

Ziva follows.

They step into a small den, where a young, blonde-haired boy sits intently in front of a brightly-colored screen, a game controller in his hands.

"C'mon, _c'mon_," he mutters, jerking the joystick from side to side. "Almost there…"

"Fred," Wendy says.

"Ergh!" the boy half-screams, as an explosion occurs on the screen. "_Now_ look what you made me do."

"_Fred_," Wendy says commandingly.

Pouting, the boy presses a button and the game freezes.

"Yeah?" he asks, turning around to face them.

"I have to head out for a little bit," Wendy tells him. "NCIS needs my help. I should be back before supper, though, so I expect you to be done with your homework by then."

"Mooom," the boy – Fred – whines.

"No excuses, young man," Wendy scolds. "You've had plenty of time."

"_Fine_," Fred mutters. Seemingly only just noticing Ziva, he asks, "Who are you?"

"Fred!" Wendy says. "Manners."

"Sorry," Fred says, only slightly chastened. "Hi, I'm Fred Miller."

"Ziva David from NCIS," Ziva tells him, offering a hand.

The boy reaches out and shakes it.

"I like you," he says forthrightly. "You don't treat me like a baby."

"You do not look like a baby," Ziva says, confused.

"_That's_ because I'm not. I'm seven and three-quarters," Fred says importantly.

"Ahhh," Ziva replies. "You look older than that, if you do not mind my saying so."

"I get that a lot," Fred says, grinning. "Mom says I'm mature for my age."

"Sometimes I swear he's already a teenager," Wendy says quietly, rolling her eyes. "Just let me grab my coat, and we can be out of here."

Ziva nods, and Wendy leaves the room briefly.

"You aren't going to play kissy-face with my mom, are you?" Fred asks.

"Wha… no," Ziva says in amusement. "Where did you get that idea?"

"The last agent who came here did," Fred says.

"How do you know that?" Ziva asks.

"I walked in on them," Fred says, making a disgusted face.

_Interesting_.

She pushes back the pinch of something that she refuses to call jealousy, and focuses on the boy in front of her.

"Well I can assure you that I have no interest in making 'kissy-face' with your mother," Ziva tells him. "And I will keep an eye on the other agent for you. It was unprofessional of him to kiss your mother in the middle of a case."

"Thanks," Fred says.

Wendy emerges from the other room, a coat across her arm.

"Let's get going," she says briskly.

"Tell that other agent that I said 'hi'," Fred says, a slight smirk crossing his face.

Wendy doesn't appear to notice the smirk, and simply says, "Will do."

Ziva winks quickly at the kid, and follows Wendy out of the den.

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

In the car on the way to HQ, Wendy says, "I'm glad that Fred and Tony got along. Fred doesn't normally take to strangers."

"Mmmm," Ziva murmurs noncommittally, before saying, "If you do not mind my asking, how _did_ you and Tony meet?"

"It's a little embarrassing," Wendy admits, clinging to the dashboard with whitened fingers.

Honestly, Ziva isn't driving _that_ fast.

"I was in the process of getting my Music Education B.A., and I was the teaching assistant in his Senior High School music class," Wendy continues. "I know that makes me sound like a sexual predator or something, but I swear it wasn't like that. Tony was the one to make the move, and I refused to have anything to do with him outside of class until the semester was over."

Ziva looks at her, and Wendy says defensively, "He was very persuasive."

"That does sound like Tony," Ziva agrees ruefully.

"We were only a few years apart, and he _was_ of legal age," Wendy adds.

Ziva simply shrugs, and says, "It is none of my business. So how did you end up with a career in the news business?"

"Fred was born," Wendy says. "Don't get me wrong, I still love kids, but I didn't want to spend all day at work with children only to come home and do the same thing. I wanted to spread my wings, I wanted to be _challenged._ But enough about me, how long have you and Tony been partners?"

"Six years," Ziva says, not volunteering any more information than necessary.

"That's quite a while," Wendy says. "You must know him pretty well by now."

"As well as anyone knows him, I suppose," Ziva says, shrugging. "Tony is… guarded. Was he always like that?"

"Not to the degree that he seems to be today," Wendy says, frowning. "Don't get me wrong, he's always been very honest; he's probably the most honest person I've ever known, actually. But… he has a tendency to lie to himself."

Ziva nods seriously.

That _definitely_ sounds like the Tony she knows.

"I bet you have lots of good stories on him," Wendy says suddenly, a mischievous expression lighting up her face. "Want to swap?"

And even though Ziva doesn't fully trust Wendy, this is too good an opportunity to pass up.

A wicked smirk crosses her own face.

"Oh, yes. It was before my time, of course, but I heard that he woke up next to an iguana once, and almost shot it. Apparently he screamed like a little girl…"

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

By the time they reach HQ, Ziva has shared numerous tales. None of them are _too_ serious, of course – Ziva wants to embarrass Tony, not betray his trust.

She tells Wendy the tale of the stakeout where Tony got raccoon eyes; the story of how Tony pretended to be a Level 5 sorceress on a dating site, and IMed the night away with McGee – "You know, Tony actually played a warrior in a fantasy RPG when I knew him," Wendy tells her, and Ziva grins with unholy glee; the stories of all the times she snuck up on Tony and caused him to clutch his chest in fear.

In return, Wendy shares her tales.

Stories of times that Tony got high on painkillers – "Ah, I have also seen that!" Ziva responds eagerly; the first time that she'd caught Tony singing ("rather off-key, might I add") in the shower, and how he'd been so surprised, he'd slipped and had to do a strange wiggly dance to keep from falling; the tale of how he'd made a drunken bet with his frat brothers and ended up naked on a Ferris wheel at Coney Island.

While a large part of Ziva wants to demand to know Wendy's intentions towards Tony, she suspects Wendy isn't sure of them yet herself. Another part of her wants to mark her territory through catty little comments (ex. "How on earth did you put up with Tony's snoring?" or "Was Tony's butt always that hairy?"), but she fears that that might be counterproductive; Wendy seems like the sort of woman who'd have a competitive streak. So she plays nice. There'll be plenty of time to play bad cop later if Wendy sticks around.

Once established in the Observation Room, it doesn't take long for Wendy to positively ID Quintero. So they move onto a new round of Tony tales.

In fact, they're still laughing at Wendy's latest story (this one involving a seasick Tony), when the man in question bursts through the door.

"See, this I could have done without," Tony grumbles, strolling over to them.

"I did not know that Tony got motion sick," Ziva tells Wendy, temporarily ignoring her partner.

Wendy smirks, and says, "Well, he probably would if he wasn't on his meds."

There's something familiar – almost possessive – in her tone, and Ziva doesn't like it. Wendy is implying that she knows Tony better than Ziva does, that she has a better claim on him.

Ziva bristles instinctively at the veiled threat.

Tony steps between the two of them, almost as if he knows that a fight is brewing.

Wendy greets him with a smile. "Hi."

"Hi," he returns in a low voice, body angled towards her.

Ziva waits for her own greeting, and, when it is not forthcoming, she has to fight back a glare. Wendy is trying to establish dominance, and Tony is going along with it. Tony is supposed to back _her_; he is _her_ partner.

"_Hi_," she prompts him through a smile of gritted teeth.

"Hi," he replies awkwardly. He then turns to Wendy and asks, "So… how's things?"

Wendy's lashes flutter as she briefly looks down and back up, and says, "Good. You?"

Ziva tries not to fidget. Wendy is flirting with Tony.

Tony gives Wendy a short nod and a smile.

It may be unconscious, but he's flirting back. Ziva sniffs as Wendy and Tony's eyes lock and their postures begin to subtly mirror one another. This is… extremely uncomfortable. Perhaps a strategic retreat is in order?

"Actually," she says, starting to inch away, "I will –"

Tony's hand flies out and grabs her arm to stop her from leaving. Even through her sleeve, she can feel its warmth.

"You know what, I'm going to go," Wendy tells them hastily, "because I need to get back to Fred – oh, who says 'hello' by the way; I think he likes you."

She directs this last part to Tony, who looks every bit as politely skeptical as Ziva herself feels.

If that was meant to be a last ditch effort at one-upping Ziva, it is a poor one.

Tony's gaze follows Wendy's coy exit, but then it snaps back to Ziva, who is having a hard time restraining her chuckles.

She exchanges a look with Tony, and the door closes behind Wendy.

And then they are alone.

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><p><em>AN: Sorry for taking so long to get this chapter up! Since we've barely met Wendy, I find her somewhat difficult to write. So now you have my fix!it explanation as to how Wendy could be Tony's High School music teacher _and_ teach pre-schoolers how to sing "Puff the Magic Dragon": she TA'ed at a High School for experience while she was in college, then she went on to become a preschool music teacher after she got her degree. Additionally, by making her closer to Tony's age (and only a TA) at the time, I lessened the squick factor. Teacher/student romantic relationships are almost always unethical in real life due to their inherent lack of power balance, in my opinion._

_M__y apologies in advance, but I may not be able to get the next chapter of this fic up until early April. I'm leaving for Israel tomorrow and won't have internet access at a lot of the places I'll be staying while I'm there. I'll do my best, but I can't make any promises._


	4. Interrogation and Investigation

_Disclaimer: Once upon a time that never was, I owned NCIS. However, that time passed long before reality began. And in reality, I am not nearly wealthy enough to own the rights to a major TV show. I barely have the money that I used to buy a few seasons of the show on DVD._

_A/N: Shalom from Jerusalem! By some small miracle, the place that I'm staying tonight _does_ have internet. So here is the next chapter for your reading pleasure. Sorry it took so long._

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><p><strong>Chapter Four: Interrogation and Investigation<strong>

Is it just her, or does it feel warmer in here?

Ziva stands there awkwardly, waiting for him to say something.

Tony turns to face the interrogation room, links his hands loosely together in front of him, and says, "OK, let's hear it."

"Hear _what_?" Ziva asks, also looking through the glass window in front of them. It is… easier this way.

"I'm sure she said something," Tony half-scoffs.

Ziva retorts, "Is there something to tell?"

Neither of them glances at the other.

After a few seconds of silence, Tony says in a semblance of lightheartedness, "Isn't there always? The real question is _which_ of those 'somethings' she so kindly shared with you."

"Nothing _too_ incriminating," Ziva replies. "How the two of you met, some funny stories from your time together… Did you really ride a Coney Island Ferris wheel naked?"

She glances briefly at him, but his face gives no clues as to how he feels about this.

"Yeah," he says.

"Thank you. I appreciate the honesty," Ziva murmurs. "Actually, that is something that Wendy mentioned about you. That you were one of the most honest people she knew."

"Really?" Tony asks quietly, almost hopefully.

Ziva lets out a sigh, and says, "To… others. She says the only person you lie to is yourself, which she says you do _a lot_."

Unable to help herself, she turns to see his expression.

His face twists slightly, and he says, "Right. Well isn't _that_ rich."

Ziva remains silent, hoping that if she doesn't say anything, he'll keep talking.

"Because _I'm_ obviously the one with all the problems," he continues bitterly. "And what was up with her thinking that her kid _liked_ me, huh?"

"Clearly she is deluding herself," Ziva agrees, forgetting to stay quiet.

Tony jerks his head around to face her, having seemingly forgotten that she was still there.

"I know that," he says suspiciously. "How do _you_ know that?"

"I met her son – Fred, I believe? – when I picked her up at her grandmother's house," Ziva says. "He said that you treated him like an infant."

"It's a baby, Ziva, not an infant," Tony corrects. "And I most certainly did not."

Ziva thinks his correction rather ridiculous, since the two words mean the exact same thing. He is simply picknitting, yes?

"So, uh, what else did the little whippersnapper say?" he continues, smiling nervously.

Ziva debates showing her hand, but decides to go for honesty.

"He wanted to know if I had plans to kiss his mother the way the last NCIS agent did," Ziva says with a slight shrug. "When I told him that I had no intention of doing so, he warmed right up to me."

Tony winces almost imperceptibly, but quickly plasters on a lascivious grin.

"Are you _sure_, Ziva?" he asks. "I think you and Wendy could be quite happy together."

Ziva snorts, "You mean you think a little girl-on-girl action would be 'hot.' But I do not think you would be comfortable if Wendy and I actually engaged in a relationship. After all, you could hardly stand us being alone in the same room together for five minutes."

She is taking a risk here, but she wants to hear his response.

"Ziva, if you ever want to experiment, I can assure you, the last thing I will be is _uncomfortable_," Tony tells her.

"Really?" Ziva purrs. "Pity."

Tony shifts his balance and Ziva allows herself a small smirk. He is deflecting, but she will allow him that right now.

They watch the interrogation in silence for a few minutes. Ziva finds herself acutely aware of Tony's presence next to her, but she does her best to focus on Quintero.

The man seems innocent… unfortunately. It would have been nice to wrap up this case.

Something Quintero says stands out to her, but not because it is relevant to the case.

_"Hey, why do you think I call myself Soulless?…But I am_ not_ a killer."_

Ziva is a killer. She killed under orders, yes, but that does not negate her actions; she is aware of this.

A couple of years ago, she had asked Tony if he believed in soul mates. Every now and then, though, she wonders whether she even believes in _souls_. (Although raised in a fairly secular household, this thought feels uncomfortably like blasphemy.)

If souls do exist, will hers ever be clean again?

She rather doubts it.

Knowing better than to continue along this line of thought at work, she turns her attention back to Quintero.

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

Gibbs has assigned herself and McGee to check out Quintero's alibi.

As they drive to the retirement center, Ziva turns to McGee (who, out of courtesy, she has allowed to drive) and says, "So, I never got a chance to ask you: how was your stakeout with Tony? Did he drive you crazy with his nonstop babbling?"

McGee frowns and says, "Actually, he was pretty quiet. Wasn't hungry either."

Ziva's eyebrows shoot up.

"Yeah, I know, right?" McGee agrees. "And get this: he and Wendy kissed."

She works to keep her expression neutral. "I know."

McGee looks surprised. "Really? I thought he got all the lipstick off his collar."

"There was no lipstick," Ziva says curtly. "Wendy's son told me when I went to pick her up."

McGee winces in sympathy. "That's gotta be awkward."

"Mmmm," Ziva agrees, "but not nearly as awkward as watching Tony and Wendy flirt in Observation."

"Huh," McGee says thoughtfully. "What do you think about them?"

"I think… that we do not know enough about Wendy or her former relationship with Tony to make a judgment," Ziva says slowly. "I also think that that is the retirement center up ahead."

"Oh crap," McGee says, quickly changing lanes. As they pull into the retirement center's parking lot, he asks, "So what are we going to do about it?"

Ziva's lips turn upwards in a small smile. "Do a little research."

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

After talking to the center administrator and several, ah, _eccentric_ grandmothers ("A murder? Ooo, how exciting! Matilda will be so envious, you know, nothing this interesting ever happens at _her_ retirement center."), Quintero's alibi is confirmed.

When they return to NCIS, they inform Gibbs of this.

"Soulless does a magic show for residents on Tuesday nights," Ziva explains, remembering the photographs that the administrator had shown them. Quintero's costume for the show had made his superhero costume look positively understated.

"He's not our guy," McGee agrees, lowering his pack to the floor.

Tony glances at Gibbs, then says quickly, "We should look at other superheroes. Maybe someone was getting jealous of all the attention Wallace was getting."

Gibbs gets to his feet and joins them. "Link was the reporter."

"Well, I don't know boss," Tony says, smiling nervously, "I can think of a bunch of other angles."

Gibbs simply stares at him, daring him to list those angles. When Tony remains silent, Gibbs turns to the screen and draws up a picture of Wendy.

"OK, the link is the reporter," Tony agrees, an edge of increased discomfort entering his voice. "Let's keep talking about her."

They throw out what relevant information they know about her: she was working on several whistle-blowing stories with Wallace; Wallace called Wendy the day before he was killed.

So when Gibbs orders McGee to put together a file of Wendy's old news stories, she exchanges a quick, conspiratorial glance with him. If there was ever a perfect time to investigate Wendy, now is it. It might be significant to the case, after all.

She heads out to talk to Wallace's CO with a new spring in her step. McGee will update her on anything he finds; she is sure of it.


	5. Putting the Operation on Hold

_Disclaimer: Still not mine._

_A/N: And so we reach the final chapter. Warning: it's a bit shippier than I'd initially planned. Thanks very much to all of you who have read and reviewed!_

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><p><strong>Chapter Five: Putting the Operation on Hold<strong>

"So…" Ziva says, strolling over to McGee.

The case is wrapped up and the paperwork completed. Tony left HQ just a few minutes ago, so their section of the bullpen is empty.

"Wendy's clean," McGee states.

"Nothing?" Ziva asks, frustrated.

"Nothing," McGee confirms. "I mean, she's been charged with trespassing a couple of times since she became a reporter, but the charges were dropped. Beyond that, the worst thing on her record is the occasional parking ticket."

Ziva sighs. She hadn't wanted Tony's ex to be a _criminal_, exactly, but…

"Well, then that is that," Ziva says.

"You're just giving up?" McGee asks, surprised and perhaps a bit disappointed.

"What would you have me do, McGee?" Ziva half-snaps. "Stalk the woman? We have no reason to believe that her intentions are anything but pure. There is nothing else I _can_ do without more information on her relationship with Tony, and the only people who know about _that_ aren't talking."

McGee nods slowly. "OK," he concedes. "So we stop investigating."

Ziva nods. "We stop investigating. I will continue to keep my eyes and ears open, but that is it."

"Do you think they're going to… well, you know?" McGee asks.

"I do not know," Ziva says quietly. "And for the moment, it is technically none of our business."

"Mmm," McGee agrees, looking a bit disbelieving. After a brief pause, he says, "Vance called Gibbs 'cupid,' you know."

Ziva raises her eyebrows. "Now there is a mental imagine which I did not need."

"No, cupid as in a _matchmaker_," McGee clarifies quickly.

"And how did Gibbs respond to that?" Ziva asks.

"He _grinned_," McGee says, still bemused.

"Hmm," Ziva says. Shaking the thought away, she says, "Well, I am headed out. Do you have any plans, McGee?"

"Actually, I do," McGee says, smiling slightly. "Since we finished at a reasonable hour – for once – we'll actually be able to make our dinner reservations."

"Anyone I should know about?" Ziva asks curiously.

"Not yet," McGee replies. "It's still pretty new. Might not amount to anything."

"Ah," Ziva murmurs. "Well, have a lovely night out."

"Thanks," McGee says, grabbing his backpack. "What about you, Ziva? Any big plans?"

"I have a new book," Ziva says, shrugging, "and I might do a little cooking instead of ordering take-away."

"Sounds nice," McGee says. "Enjoy."

"Thank you," Ziva says. "I intend to."

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

_Dee-dee-dah-la-la-la-dee-dee-deeeee._

It's the familiar trill of her cell phone.

_Dee-dee-dah-la-la-_

Temporarily abandoning stirring the tomato mixture in the skillet, Ziva hurries over to the counter and answers the phone. "Hello?"

"Hey, Ziva," Tony's voice greets her.

"Tony," Ziva says. "This is certainly a surprise."

"Wanna grab a beer? I mean, if you aren't busy or anything," Tony asks casually.

"I would like to, but I am afraid that I cannot leave my apartment at the moment," Ziva replies. "Dinner is cooking on the stove." She hesitates briefly before saying, "…You could join me if you like. There is enough food for two."

"I'll bring the beer," Tony says promptly. "See you in twenty."

And he hangs up.

-–- -–- -–- -–- -–-

By the time he arrives, dinner is finished cooking and on the table.

"Brrr, it's cold out," Tony says, setting a six-pack of beers down on the table with a _thud_.

"It _is_ winter," Ziva points out as she sets out the flatware and napkins.

"But it's been warmer lately," Tony protests in a tone approaching a whine.

"Sit, eat," Ziva tells him, smiling. "You will feel warmer once you do."

"So what is this, anyway?" Tony asks, jerking his head in the direction of the pan on the table.

"Shakshuka," Ziva says. "It is a bit like your _huevos rancheros_, yes? And I have some store-bought bread to go with it."

"Huh," Tony says, helping himself to some. The middle of a bite later: "Ish_gud_."

Ziva shakes her head in amusement and serves herself some as well. "It is very popular in Israel."

Tony swallows his bite and says, "I can see why."

For the next few minutes, the only sounds are of chewing and swallowing, punctuated by the occasional clink of spoons.

"I did not expect to hear from you tonight," Ziva says at last.

"Oh?" Tony says, playing innocent.

"You seemed… eager to see Wendy again," Ziva comments carefully. "I thought the two of you would spend time catching up once we had closed the case."

Tony's eyes sober a bit.

"Nah… not tonight, anyway. It's been… we hadn't talked for nine years, you know? Not since she broke things off."

Ziva's eyes widen. He is actually _talking_. And _Wendy_ was the one to end the engagement?

"I know," Tony says with self-deprecating humor. "Hard to believe she'd turn all of this down. But enough about me, how are _you_ doing?"

"I am… actually OK," Ziva says slowly. "I thought today would be more difficult than it has been. But I am finding that I do not miss Ray very much. He was never truly in my life, so there is not much for me _to_ miss."

Tony's expression is serious as he says, "You deserve someone who will be there for you, Ziva."

"So do you," Ziva replies firmly.

Sometimes she thinks Tony does not realize how valued he is, how worthy he is of happiness.

"To us, then," Tony says, lifting his beer. "May we find someone who will appreciate us."

"To us," Ziva agrees, tapping her beer can against his.

A surprisingly warm smile spreads across Tony's face, and Ziva basks in its glow.

The night may be cold and their hearts may still be healing from previous hurts, but right now, in this moment, Ziva can't imagine anywhere else she'd rather be.


End file.
